


One Night Only

by ScarlettsLetters



Series: Casualties of Desire [3]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Anal, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes-centric, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romantic Soulmates, Rope Bondage, Shrunkyclunks, Spanking, Submission, hole spanking, shrunky clunks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettsLetters/pseuds/ScarlettsLetters
Summary: Bucky Barnes purchased the plug on a lark. He's never going to use it. That's what friends are for.





	One Night Only

“Raise your ass, Buck. I’m not asking a third time.”

Those words raised an instinctive quiver that struck him as an electric jolt straight to the midsection. He clenched his stomach but the charged desire traveled through his tailbone to his toes.

He groaned into the pillow as instinct to clench in anticipation outran his conscious control. His sphincter muscles contracted in a futile attempt to cinch his hole shut past the thick black plug. Too late for him to relax, and his walls squeezed the unyielding rubber.

Steve clenched his hand into a fist at the sight of the dilated red ring milking the glossy shaft. Lube trickled out around the violation stuffed into his best friend’s ass.

 _One. Two_. He stopped his mental count when Bucky pushed back and cantilevered himself high into the air.

Ropes wrapped above and below Bucky’s knees allowed little movement. They dragged across the sheets in taut lines. Pale and silver-vibranium fingers gripped his inflamed backside as lightly as possible.

“Present,” Steve said.

The clear tone he used to call the Avengers to attention in practice carried over perfectly fine to a chamber twenty floors above a futuristic street straight out of a movie. Wakanda felt like a dream to them both, kids from Forties Brooklyn.

The brunet complied without thinking, gripping his ass tighter and pulling apart the muscular cheeks. His skin burned in a smoldering ache, fingertips sinking into the bruises left by Steve’s hand. His dark hair clung to his face.

“Good enough?”

“Don’t get smart with me, Buck.” 

He couldn’t help himself. Riling Steve up was a safe proposition, he'd never push too far. Bucky shot a look over his shoulder anyway. “Wasn’t the point of bending me over the desk to learn a few things, Prof?”

The threat had the anticipated outcome, and they both knew it. Steve sighed and smacked his palm beneath the tapering neck of the plug right where Bucky’s anus stretched widest. Exposed and vulnerable, the easiest of targets took two quick swats. Heat bubbled and blistered a split second later along the sensitive nerves, and a good centimeter of rubber slid out through the grudging grip.

Bucky’s teeth clenched and he jerked his hips wildly against the padded ledger atop the ebony desk. Something simple as rope only teased at restraint, tugging on his calves when he kicked in short abortive bursts. One hard pull and the whole contraption might fall apart, dumping him on the ground. He needed the rope now, craved the tight coils holding him in place.

“Fuck. _Fuck_!”

A reprimand for language followed a moment later, hard, thrusting the plug down into his quivering hole. He felt the base mash against his spanked rosette, the spine-tingling girth churned by slow, centrifugal rotations on the knob end.

Stars erupted in front of his eyes, but he clung to his parted cheeks for dear life. The inflated toy applied blunt force pressure on his prostate, rubbing away his limited reserves of willpower until he was trying to fuck back, urging the maddening length deeper.

Motion immediately stopped. A protesting wail belonging to a wolf, guttural and lupine, strafed over the heavily soundproofed walls. Say what you wanted about the country’s policies, Wakandan technology and architectural achievements were top notch.

Steve went to his knees on the plush rug, balancing out the height difference between them. His gaze followed a bead of sweat running down Bucky’s spread thigh, silvery slick, drawing his eye to the throbbing, raging erection framed so beautifully against the exotic jungle hardwood desk.

Much as he wanted to slide the swollen tip in his mouth and lick the beads of precum off, he stopped himself. His pants clung uncomfortably tight, a good reminder to who served who right now. Bucky couldn't be more delectably presented if he tried.

“Steve.” The groan torn from taut lips darkened, a growling again.

He stroked Bucky’s cock and released the plum shaft, admiring how it slapped against the drawer and the bound man stiffened, trying to control himself.

Suppressing a grin and a groan of his own, Steve bit the inner corner of his mouth. “None of that.”

No, Bucky suffering for pleasure would not do. He endured countless hours of torment suspended on the threshold of unending pain and fleeting pleasure in Department X’s hands. Nothing in the world would compel Steve to inflict that kind of misery on a living person, much less the beautiful, struggling man in front of him.

Lips branded the crease of his ass and thigh, and the molten heat that the blond sucked to the surface brought a fresh wave of short, jabbing thrusts shaking the heavy furniture. Bucky tried to throw off the boiling heat erupting through his ass and cock, the channel white-hot on every searing turn of the tide. The diligent suction was already raising a purple welt, broken capillaries sure to heal in record time.  
  
Steve was marking him.

Steve _fucking_ Rogers, the straight-laced hero, everyone’s golden boy. Captain America sucked a hickey onto his thigh. Teeth joined the branding when he grew too insistent.

Flaming heat that brought forth a scream involuntarily. Three fingers slapped the side of his hole, pushing the elastic muscle around the plug. Widening the pull on his star that extra bit sent a hot flare ricocheting through his brain, ripping away all thought.

They both startled. In the eternity of a pause, Bucky tipped forward into the void. His rectum stretched around the inflated plug stuffing him, sleek and fat and unyielding, not at all like a cock and so much more than one. Nothing prepared him for the rippling shockwave carrying up its length, his slick walls pressing down.

Resistance broke in his hole, the plug bobbing up and down a little with the last futile spasms. Steve couldn’t leave him like this, so close, so very close.

Another smack landed at the top, accompanied by his plaintive yelp over the exaggerated flesh-on-flesh collision. Drops of precum hung on fine cobweb strands splattered under the desk, doomed to hit the floor soon enough.

Kisses sucked out the worst of the sting. Hot lips and dabbing tongue covered the bitten oval left on his thigh. Then his spanking began in earnest, the super-soldier's hand smacking his rim again. He shuddered and lurched against the ropes, but his hands remained solid in their duty stretching himself open, presenting the stretched, dusky star for inspection.

This time, the hole spanking continued after the first gentle blows. Steve rhythmically switched sides, left to right, right to left. The howls drowned out any sound of the collision after a moment, torso-shaking cries that rose over the satisfying smacks in thunderous resonance. Pausing to smear the lube around with his thumb, he lay his other hand on Bucky’s tailbone for wordless reassurance. One cry, one hint of real distress, all this would end in a moment.

No pause. Bucky lay his head against the desk, jerking his hips as high as the ropes permitted. He felt like a ballerina bent in half, a French girl waiting to be mounted. _Like…_

His protesting moan and that line appearing between his brows brought everything to a pause. Teeth grit against one another.

Steve rubbed small circles against the steep slope of his back, rising up from his knees. “Buck.” He waited until the glimpse of wide frost-blue eyes locked onto him. “Pineapple?”

The ludicrous choice of a safeword left no mistake of his intentions.

A storm of damp espresso hair snapped against his shoulders as Bucky shook his head. _Couldn’t stop_ , not now, now when the molten burn sank into his bones and took away the fading embers shame left in its wake.

He tried to squirm a little, pushing back. Make Steve understand. Not enough room to move, not by half. The plug slid up again in spite of his best efforts.

They both sighed together, and the low, visceral waves besieging Bucky hit a crescendo as the plug twisted in his ass, corkscrewed on a slow, agonizing turn. Another five centimeters emerged from his stuffed hole, stretching him wider to accommodate the smooth curve. He thrashed against the withdrawal, unable to halt the process, grunting at the forked lightning stings that blurred into fiery lines of copper-bright ecstasy.

Steve slapped his fingers against the swollen ring in a hemisphere, overlapping the downward strikes to resonate through the plug. It had to hurt -- Bucky was fully howling now, the pillow brought for him knocked to the floor -- but not all pain. Not even mostly pain. Tears ran down his cheeks, precum glistening on the glans of his cock.

Twitching, gripping muscles darkened from that sweet blush colour to an angry, blazing rosebud red. The gentle touch to the soldier’s perineum traced a figure eight lower across his balls, and Steve palmed their heavy, tight weight.

Amazing how the desk hadn’t fallen in on itself as a pile of brass brackets and matchsticks. Bucky moved every way he could to cool the conflagration roaring around his spanked hole, finding no relief from the roaring flames. But the serum did its magic, fading even those bruises to a tolerable level.

Couldn’t do a damn thing for the dildo, though, and that relentlessly fucked him while he moved, breathed, or just lay still.

He lost his grip on his ass cheek and fumbled around again, grazing the dilated portal greedily swallowing up that fat, obscene toy he bought from Amazon on a lark. The inflamed ring barely twitched, thinned out by his plug. Just like he imagined weeks ago when he bought the damn thing. His grip might not even span the inflated girth, but in his blind fumbling, his hand was swatted aside.

“Two more,” Steve muttered, voice thick and aching.

Bucky tried to shake his head, to no avail. The plug stole his breath; shoved down, a short burst of movement was followed by a slow grind. The whole world incinerated in blurry purple sparks, his swelling prostate squeezed and stroked under the delving glide.

Rubber met metal in rough twists, the coupling fumbled twice before reaching a firm seal. Steve’s stinging fingers, slick with lube, could not keep a good hold on the hose. Air hissed out for a few moments, the plug shrinking only by the slimmest margin.

Still, the pleading snarl out of his lover made apparent how welcome  _that_ sorry outcome was. He mouthed an apology and reached between Bucky’s legs to start stroking his cock, slow and methodical.

They both knew that speed did nothing but shoot Bucky spiralling higher into oblivion. He squeezed against the plug, his head spinning at the rebound sensation winnowing through his seared nerves into his balls, blossoming white fire trailing down to the iron grip that held him fast.

Steve stroked him with one hand and squeezed the inflatable bulb with the other. The first pump of air thickened the plug to its immediate depth, and he waited for the reaction to settle through Bucky’s reddened ass.

Another groan, two parts gratitude and one despair, greeted his ears. The rough, harsh panting accompanied the second compression of the bulb, and amazingly the plug widened further, taking Bucky’s breached hole to new dimensions.

“You’ve got it up to a four.” Steve felt compelled to announce this achievement, though his words fell upon mostly deaf ears.

“F-fi… Fi---five.”

Courage under fire and being fucked on a desk. Bucky pushed the envelope a little further, delirious in his climax-stricken mind, and who was Steve Rogers to tell his best friend no?

Another whistling squeeze fed the measured volume down into the plug, wrenching it even wider. How many inches across, he couldn’t even guess. Bucky was gaping open around the plug and he rushed to disconnect the hose, pulling off the coupling and staring.

Perfection. Sheer perfection.

Not that the broken parade of gasps and grunts allowed much time to admire the work. Bucky’s death grip on his backside showed signs of fatigue, arm shaking, fingers denting bruising crescents in his struggles.

Steve gently stroked the full length of the bound man’s cock again, fisting up and down. The plug stood proud in the rosy red heart, irresistible.

“Time to spank that hole,” he said. The announcement was superfluous except he felt the hot cream starting to leak freely over his fingers, liberally rubbed back into the silken flesh harder than alabaster.

The first smack from three lubed fingers Bucky took with a muffled cry; the second unleashed the dam. Incandescent white heat erupted around his swollen hole, every curve alight in euphoric, dizzying sensation too sharp. The magnitude overwhelmed him, kept him from processing anything outside the smack of fingers and the shake of the plug. Steve’s fist squeezed his red-hot cock in soft, steady lines that pistoned regular as any machine.

Too much, so much. And utterly what he needed and wanted to wipe out fractured memories of agony at Zola’s hands. Scar tissue in the mind broke down. No pain, there was only Steve and only that circular rhythm: spanking, hole clenching, plug fucked into his ass, sliding back, cock stroked in a warm, hot prison.

Steve dared not alter his stance, striking twice for every time he ran his fist from balls to plump, engorged tip. Without the plug, Bucky’s rosette would be swollen tight as a virgin and furiously red. This way he was in every sense well-fucked, just like the note fallen loose between the pages of the journal:

_The dildo is rammed deep inside, stretching me wider. I don't know how much I can handle and he'll inflate it again soon. He spanks my well-fucked ass as I cum, and he doesn’t stop. Making me take all the dildo, making me cum uncontrollably._

Steve could recite that excerpt by heart now.

Tears ran down Bucky’s wet cheeks and mixed with sweat, hair clinging to his skin. He screamed out his pleasure as the compressed waves of orgasm plowed into him. His body quivered and arched, a taut bowstring, but the black dildo remained squarely anchored so very deep in his rectum. No escaping that.

White cream ran over Steve’s fingers, easing the foaming lube that bubbles and glistens. The faster, quicker pace he remembered from the first time Natasha brought Bucky off shouting, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

He pushed the widely inflated plug down as far as it could go, the base obscenely jutting out, and held his hand there. Bucky shuttled between the fat rubber plugging his ass and the fist stroking him past the point of sensitivity, fucking himself utterly, perfectly senseless to anything but the comet-blaze of his release.

Once final spurt dripped off his cock. Two quick tugs tore a rope free of his leg, but he lacked the strength to even close, and in the wild afterglow of climax, the exhausted man slumped upon the desk. Strong arms guided him up slightly, pushing away his hands from their numb grip on his flaming ass.

Steve lay atop him in an embrace pressing Bucky’s back to his chest. He lowered his head to whisper, “Just rest, Buck. You’re good.”

Lost in an exhausted stupor, the former sergeant smiled and closed his eyes. 


End file.
